Lindsay: My daughter doesn’t need me.
George Michael: Neither does my dad.
Narrator: Had George Michael and Lindsay stayed, they might have discovered what Michael and Maeby did— that “Afternoon Delight” was more adult-themed than its innocent melody would have you believe.
Maeby: (Singing.) / And the thought of rubbing you is getting so exciting / Skyrockets in flight /
Michael: Hang on, Maeby.
Maeby: / Afternoon delight... /
Michael: (Turns off music.) Listen, I’m going to go get some punch because it is toast time. Okay?
G.O.B.: Tom, why don’t you come up here and talk about me for a few minutes.
Tom: Uh, I want to thank the Bluth family for hiring me back. It’s been a tough couple of years.
G.O.B.: My brother did that. Talk about me.
Tom: Oh, okay. Uh, you certainly do love those suits.
G.O.B.: Seven grand— you better believe I love them. I mean, look... look what you’re wearing. You look like crap. I mean, at least this is... What...? Who did this?
G.O.B.: You do this, Tom?
G.O.B.: You’re a real smart ass, you know that, Tom.
Tom: Look, I don’t know him very well, but G.O.B. seems like he’d be a really smart boss.
Tom: Please, don’t laugh. Look, he... he’s a great magician.
G.O.B.: Bleep you, Tom.
Tom: Please, don’t.
G.O.B.: No, you know what, you’re fired. No, you’re all fired. Each and every one of you. Merry Christmas.
Michael: I didn’t know the lyrics. Where’s everybody going?
Ted: We don’t work here anymore.
Ted: Is your sister still around?
Narrator: The Christmas party had been a disaster.
G.O.B.: I did the right thing, Michael. If I don’t fire them, how do I teach a lesson to the others?
Michael: There are no others. You fired everyone.
G.O.B.: Oh, that’s... that’s-that’s great. The guy who’s dirty dancing with his niece is going to tell the guy in the thirty-six hundred dollar suit how to run the business. Come on.
Michael: I know. Maybe we’re better off with me being business-like and you being the good-time, useless party guy.
G.O.B.: It got us this far.
G.O.B.: And must say that I miss the laughter. Oh, God, how they used to laugh with me.
Michael: At you. We got to figure out a way to hire everybody back. A meeting.
G.O.B.: A party.